


Hashtag OvercomeChitoko

by VanillaIsNotPlain



Series: Hashtag Viktors (Do) Love Yuuris [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Bad Poetry, Chihoko spelled as Chitoko, Chihokogate, F/M, Fem!Yuuri, Humor, VictUuri, Viktor in an apron, codeswitching is hard, especially without caffeine, victuuri wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 05:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaIsNotPlain/pseuds/VanillaIsNotPlain
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov, living legend, skating multi gold medalist, and world renowned top hottest (not for long) bachelor, is facing his greatest challenge yet.His mission? To prove to the love of his life, once and for all, that he is better than Chihoko.It's really too bad that Chihoko doesn't even exist.What's worse? Chitoko, on the other hand, does.EDIT 2017-12-03: Now with 14% more bad poetry!





	Hashtag OvercomeChitoko

**Author's Note:**

> In which it's all Hiroko's fault.  
> This takes place after the events in Viktors Don't Love Yuuris, if you plan on reading that story, but you certainly don't need to in order to read this one! The main thing to know is that Yuuri is a girl here.  
> EDIT 2017-12-03: Now with 14% more bad poetry!

"Oi. Gold medal-less. Who the hell is Chihoko?"

"What? Yuri?" Yuurika pressed the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she raised herself on an elbow in the cloud-soft hotel bed. "It's been over a year since then; I think that namecalling’s dated. And I have no idea who Chihoko is. Japan's a big country. Why do you ask?"

"It's written on Viktor's mirror in his apartment here in Sanct Petersburg," the diminutive ice tiger explained shortly. "He asked me to come here to send him something he left behind when he visited for my most recent competition here."

Yuurika hummed thoughtfully, smoothing out the sheets. "Can you send me a picture?"

"It's in Cyrillic," Yuri warned gruffly.

"Oh, right. He's been sticking a motivational message in Cyrillic on the mirror in his room in Hasetsu too. I wonder if it's the same one? Maybe you can write it out in English script underneath?" Yuurika yawned, glancing at the clock. Viktor sure was up early for a morning on their honeymoon. If she’d been a less compassionate person, she would have rankled at waking up to the teenage skater’s irritation-laced voice rather than the soft low murmur of her new husband’s.

She caught the static of a long-suffering sigh on the other end. "Fine. Whatever." There was a shutter snap, then typing clicks. "Open your Instagram."

Yuurika complied, waiting for the notification to pop up. And waited. "I didn't receive it, Yuri," she broke finally.

"Well maybe you should get better service wherever you - ah."

"...What happened?" She held her breath in foreboding.

She discerned a faint bitten-off curse. "Wrong contact."

Yuurika felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Who?"

She needn't have asked, as her banner was flooded with a ton of notifications from both Instagram and Twitter. She opened one, and found a flash-marred photo of Viktor's bathroom vanity mirror, with Yuri Plisetsky holding up his phone and scowling in the reflection. But clearly in the center was a long strip of paper with strong bold letters and a surplus of exclamation marks, just above the blood-red coloured phrase "Overcome Chihoko!!!" smeared directly on the glass. It was labeled with the caption “Viktor’s mirror.”

"So that's where my lipstick disappeared to," Yuurika realized aloud.

"Forget that. Look down in the comments."

Yuurika did. Drowsiness forgotten, she noted both herself and Viktor's social profiles tagged, then scrolled down further, recognizing many of the usernames, particularly that of the first poster, whose tanned, ever-effervescent Thai facial profile now bore the status "#SaveViktuuri #OvercomeChihoko."

@Christophe-GC had posted "Is this a former flame of @yurikatsuki? Does our Viktor have competition?? #OvercomeChihoko"

@PhichitHamster responded "Confirmed no #BestieKnowsBest"

@PhichitHamster came back with a horror-filled “But is divorce imminent? #SaveViktuuri #OvercomeChihoko”

@sukeota2sisters echoed his sentiment with “NO WAY we won’t allow it #TripletPower #OvercomeChihoko”

@LeoDelaIngles asked "A Japanese wedding tradition?? #OvercomeChihoko"

@Minami-Ken replied "Ditto @LeoDelaIngles confirmed no #NipponKnowsBest #OvercomeChihoko", followed almost instantaneously by @Otabek-Altin with another more succinct "No #OvercomeChihoko".

@+GuangHongJi+ brought a brief respite from the rampant speculation with the observation "Cute name! <3 #JapaneseGirlsNamesAreCute #OvercomeChihoko"

@GeorgiSkatesForAnya retorted "Anya is cuter #OTP #OvercomeChihoko"

@MilaBabi just fanned the flames with a merry "trolololol #CatFight #OvercomeChihoko"

@JJLeroy!15 sent encouragement with "Canada stands behind you @V-Nikiforov! #OvercomeChihoko #OvercomeWithJJStyle"

@Seung-GilLee clearly didn’t know what to make of this, just posting an empty “... #OvercomeChihoko”

@Sala-Crispino brought a voice of reason with a placating "Sure there must be some reasonable explanation #OvercomeChihoko", with the split-second addition "Seconded #SaraIsAlwaysRight" from @Mickey-Crispino.

@EmilSkatesCzech offered "I think so too #OvercomeChihoko", with the instantaneous rebuff "Shut up Emil #OvercomeChihoko" from the previous poster.

"You better give an explanation, and fast, or this'll go even higher in the trending ranks," Yuri warned.

"But I don't... oh, wait. Did Viktor mean Chitoko?"

"Who the hell is Chitoko?!"

Yuurika sighed in resignation. "Well..."

⁃ A couple months earlier -

"I approve this colour scheme," Viktor declared, pointing at Yuurika's childhood wedding scrapbook.

"What? No, I outgrew my infatuation with purple when I was eleven. Why don't we go with silver and navy blue? I think it would look good on both of us," Yuurika turned to look backwards at him from her position settled comfortably in his lap.

"But Yuu~ri, blue is _your_ colour. I look better in red tones. Purple is a compromise," Viktor argued petulantly.

"Fine, how about a lilac shade then?" Yuurika flipped further into her scrapbook. "I'm glad I saved this from Vicchan's teething sprees. Hmm, I think I can still use these flowers I picked out then. Roses are classic, and lilies add a personal touch."

Viktor prodded her shoulder gently. "You're trying to avoid the guest list, aren't you?"

Yuurika turned and groaned into the crook of his clavicle, sending tickling shivers down Viktor's spine. "Yes. It's going to be a codeswitch nightmare. But you're right, we can't put it off forever. Let's see, I'll start by narrowing down the Japanese guests." Yuurika flipped through her parent's phone book, stopping and writing down a name every so often.

Viktor followed along with his head resting on hers, his chest warm against her back. "You're including two out of every three entries in the list. I thought we wanted a small wedding."

"I know." Yuurika sighed. "I just don't want to offend anyone. And some of them I'll enjoy seeing again after so long away."

"Here, let me help." Viktor gently teased the phonebook from her barely resisting fingers. "I can call out names at least."

"Um..."

"Okay, never mind, I have no idea what this says," Viktor admitted, holding the book further from his nose.

Yuurika adjusted her blue-rimmed glasses and bit back an amused grin. "It’s upside down."

"It looks the same to me the other way," Viktor pouted, handing back the stolen directory.

"Now you know how I feel about Cyrillic." Yuurika flipped to the next page. "Oh, we'll have to invite them. I haven't seen Chitoko in ages."

Viktor stiffened against her, suddenly regarding her suspiciously. "Who's Chihoko?"

"Chisamaru-itoko. We call him Chitoko for short." Yuurika smiled fondly as she wrote down the name.

Viktor was silent, arms wrapped around her and balled into fists against her midsection. This degree of affection for those he'd not yet met was new. And most worrisome, Yuurika had clearly said "he". A steely edge stole into Viktor's gaze. He had some investigating to do.

###

"Who's Chihoko?" Viktor asked his future mother-in-law bright and early at breakfast the next morning, while both were waiting for sleepyhead Yuurika to finally roll out of bed and grace them with her presence.

"Chihoko... you mean, Chitoko?" Hiroko guessed astutely (It was a close toss-up between that and Shachihoko, which could have led to a rather different outcome). "That's Yuurika's itoko."

"What does 'itoko' mean?" Viktor rolled the new word curiously around his limber tongue.

Hiroko racked her brain for the English equivalent. It just wouldn't come. Where was Mari when she needed her? "A friend... becomes... family?" She said finally. She resolved to try again after her coffee finished brewing. If she remembered.

Viktor gasped. A childhood engagement?! Why did no-one tell him Yuurika had an arranged fiance before he came? Or maybe it was more an informal parental speculation, like Mr. Darcy and Anne de Bourgh (Jane Austen may have been a secret pleasure for the romantic-at-heart world champion ice skater). Either way, how did this Chihoko feel about being upstaged by Viktor? Did he even know yet? And why did Yuurika glance at his mere name so fondly?

Viktor spooned his miso soup into his mouth with a new determination. Before this Chihoko came to the wedding, Viktor had work to do. By the time he was done, that guy would be the last thing on Yuurika’s mind.

###

A certain morning later, Yuurika headed down to breakfast holding a small bouquet of yellow tulips dotted with golden freesia and pale primroses.

“Did you leave these for me on my bed?” She asked her husband-to-be, holding out the limp bundle.

“Yes!” Viktor failed to hide his exuberance. “Do you like them?”

“They’re… very pretty,” Yuurika offered hesitantly.

Viktor frowned. “They’ve wilted more than I thought they would though. Maybe I should have put them in a vase overnight.”

“How did you pick these particular ones?” Yuurika asked, looking up into his eyes with a guarded expression.

“They’re all gold! Just like our promise when I became your coach!” Viktor was positively radiating his pride at his cleverness.

“So you didn’t know that these mean “one-sided love,” “childish and immature,” and “desperate” in the language of flowers?” Yuurika asked just to make sure. As the daughter of a ryokan, she had learned a bit of the ways of hanakotoba.

“What?!” Viktor tore the drooping stems out of her grasp. “I’ll get you better ones! What about orange daylilies?”

“Please don’t,” Yuurika cut him off. “That would mean you hate me.”

“Oh.” Viktor drooped to match the flowers he held.

“Don’t worry about it.” Yuurika patted his arm consolingly. “It’s the thought that counts.” She interlaced her fingers in his with a slight squeeze. “Let’s go eat.”

“Okay.” Viktor allowed her to lead him to the main rooms, brain whirring. Scratch flowers. He had other ideas. Chihoko wouldn’t know what hit him.

###

“What’s this?” Yuurika accepted the envelope from her fiance.

Viktor bounced in his seat. “Open it!”

She did so, and carefully pulled out a beautifully embossed card with elegant script spelling out “Happy Anniversary” on the front. She unfolded it and scanned the inside, which mostly consisted of a large looping “Your Loving Viktor” and several lopsided hearts, X’s and O’s.

“Thank you, I love it,” she told him sincerely. “But what’s the occasion?” Obviously, it wasn’t their actual anniversary, unless this Viktor was traveling back from the future. If so, she expected some stock advice.

“It’s the two-year anniversary of when we first talked to each other!” Viktor explained eagerly.

“It’s been two years since the banquet at Sochi already?” Yuurika marveled, still admiring the card.

“Actually, that was yesterday,” Viktor admitted. He’d forgotten to buy the card until nighttime, and was too tired to present it to her afterwards. But he had a workaround. “Today, it’s been two years since our first _sober_ conversation!”

“You mean when you asked if I wanted a commemorative photo?” Yuurika looked at him askance. “When you unintentionally low-key shamed me in front of an entire international airport? Why would I want to remember that? And I didn’t even say anything back to you, so I don’t think it counts as a conversation anyway.”

“Erk…” Viktor may have not thought this one through.

Yuurika sighed at him in fond exasperation. “Don’t mind. I love the card anyway; really. Thank you.”

Viktor bit his lip. Next time, for sure, he would conquer this. Chihoko had better watch out.

###

“What’s this?” Yuurika asked, picking up a colourful piece of cardstock lying next to her place setting.

“It’s for you,” Viktor supplied, slipping into the seat next to her. He bounced his knees. “I wrote it.”

“You wrote it?!” Yuurika asked, with the perfect flattering blend of surprise and admiration. She lifted it, smiling fondly at the mosaic of photos from their memorable Grand Prix season outlining a printed message. “I didn’t know you wrote poetry.”

“I don’t normally, that’s really Georgi’s thing,” Viktor admitted. “But they say that you can do impossible crazy things, when you’re in love.”

Viktor cheered inside at the flustered blush that crept across his fiancée’s face. He scooted closer and whispered in her ear lowly. “Why don’t you read it?”

It took a few throat-clearings for Yuurika to regain the power of speech. Squinting, she read aloud:

“‘Roses are red,

Lilies are white.

Katsuki Yuuri,

You keep me up at night.

‘Katsudon is yummy,

Wasabi is strong.

Katsuki Yuuri

But not for long.’”

Viktor frowned during the ensuing bout of silence. “What’s the matter?” It couldn’t be the flowers again - he’d triple-checked that they were safe, romantic ones this time.

“Oh, nothing,” Yuurika said unconvincingly. “You sure like Mom’s katsudon, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do!” Writing poetry took a lot of brainpower, and Viktor had gotten a bit peckish halfway through. And who didn’t love the onsen’s signature pork cutlet bowl? “Don’t you?”

“Yes, of course.” She perused the sheet, preoccupied. “Viktor, what exactly does it mean, that I ‘keep you up at night,’ but ‘not for long’?”

“What it sounds like,” Viktor assured her, flashing his signature heart-shaped grin.

“Right, naturally; it’s um, how do you say it in English...?” Yuurika prompted.

“That I can’t wait to marry you and live _together_ -together, and then you won’t be Katsuki Yuuri anymore, but Katsuki-Nikiforov Yuuri. Or will it be Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov?” He paused, frowning with a solitary finger tapping his lip. “How will that work?”

“We can figure that out later,” said Yuurika. “So, it doesn’t mean anything about, say, putting a hit on me, or taking me out, or anything like that?”

“You want me to hit on you and take you out?” Viktor glanced down at her frumpy sweatshirt; he thought she was planning to stay in today. Last time he suggested going out when she was dressed like that, he was met with stuttering, blushing, and hand waving that took him back all the way to his arrival at Hasetsu. And then he was subjected to a lengthy lecture on the differences between inside and outside clothes. He’d been careful afterwards, paying attention to the subtle clues, and was pretty sure today’s outfit forecasted ‘High of Wedding Planning with a Chance of Off-Season Workout.’ But apparently not. Women were so difficult to read. Not that he was complaining; he’d take every chance of spoiling his Yuuri he could (especially considering Chihoko). “We can do that instead!”

Yuurika looked less than enthused. “I knew all those mafiya movies were a mistake,” she muttered.

“Let’s watch something else, then!” Viktor’s spirits remained undampened. “What genre do you feel like?”

“A very badly written romantic comedy,” Yuurika sighed. “Let me go change.” She got up stretched on her tiptoes, and kissed him on his cheek. “Thank you for the poem, Viktor. It’s beautiful, I’ll keep it forever.” She slipped away soundlessly.

Viktor stared hard at the empty doorway. Well, that went better than before, anyway. But hardly a resounding success. He had a niggling feeling he’d overlooked something. Again.

Viktor sighed. This expressing affection sans touch thing was a lot harder than he’d expected. And it wouldn’t be long until until You Know Who reappeared.

Well, that just meant his next move had to be foolproof. And fortunately, his poem suggested the very thing.

###

“What’s that smell?” Yuurika walked into the ryokan kitchen, sniffing the acrid odour. She recoiled as she neared the stovetop, nostrils assailed by a wave of roiling smoke.

“Well, it was supposed to be breakfast,” Viktor informed her sadly, turning to face her in her mother’s apron, holding out in his mitted hands for her inspection a sad charred lump in a steaming pan.

“What sort of breakfast?” Yuurika poked it with with a handily nearby pair of tongs.

“Omurice,” Viktor said regretfully. “It was harder to keep in one piece than I expected. And I lost track of it when I was looking for the ketchup to write a message on it for you.”

“I don’t think we have any,” Yuurika recalled. “Mari’s making a supply run this morning.”

“It was going to say “VN + YK” inside a heart,” Viktor spoiled.

“It would have been too cute to eat then,” Yuurika protested laughing. “And too sweet. For breakfast, anyway.” She decided to not break the news that omurice was not a breakfast food to begin with.

Viktor put the pan in the sink and swiped his silver fringe from his eyes in discouragement. “Sorry.”

Yuurika crept behind him and folded her arms about him, wrinkling the loose V-neck she could tell he had slept in. She nuzzled her face into the small of his back, a small smile stealing across her face. “It’s perfectly okay, Viktor. I appreciate the sentiment. I wish I could have taken a picture.” Especially if it included him in the apron, she tacked at the end silently. “But please, no more of these early morning surprises. I’m afraid you’re going to make yourself sick.”

Viktor opened and closed his mouth, searching for the right words. “I just… want you to know how much I care about you. That I want to provide for you.” And that Chihoko doesn’t have a thing on him, that she should forget all about his very existence.

Yuurika released him and stepped into his view. “I know that. You don’t have to prove it to me any more than you already have. I’m just beyond happy to spend each day here with you.”

Viktor grinned tiredly down at her. “Me too,” he said simply.

“Good. Now, let’s turn on the exhaust and find something decent for humans to consume.” Yuurika pushed Viktor towards the refrigerator, stomach rumbling.

###

It was finally the big day. Their big day. And the day Viktor would finally face down his greatest foe yet, on or off the ice.

Yuurika dragged Viktor by their clasped hands in a serpentine trail through the jungle of tables, spending long moments greeting long-lost relatives and old friends. Viktor tried his best to keep up, but his Japanese could still use a lot of improvement. He also was busy keeping an eye out for a likely looking young damsel-stealer hidden away in some dark corner, ready to pounce and challenge him for her hand.

Suddenly, Yuurika broke away from him with a happy cry. “Chitoko!” She ran forward, laughing, to a side table.

Viktor screwed his eyes shut in anticipation. He’d practiced for this day. He would tell this young upstart that he had no chance with Yuurika, that Viktor was the only one she cared for, and to assuage his aching heart the best he could.

He heard Yuurika walk towards him, accompanied by another. “Viktor, this is Chitoko whom I was telling you about! Chitoko, meet Viktor.”

Viktor kept his eyes shut as he faced the new contender. “I’m sorry, you may be Yuurika’s past, but I am her now! I’m the only one for her!” He declared his conviction loudly enough to carry into the hall.

He heard Yuurika’s arms shift. “Um…”

He opened his eyes.

His newly-wed partner was holding up a chubby-cheeked, bright-eyed three-year-old who was staring at the crazy Russian with mouth hanging open in a silent “O”.

Viktor mirrored his appearance.“This is Chihoko?” he confirmed.

“Chitoko,” Yuurika corrected.

“Doesn’t ‘itoko’ mean…”

“Cousin,” Yuurika finished, glancing at him worriedly. “What did you think it meant?”

“Oh, nothing,” Viktor evaded, sticking his hands in his pockets (and rediscovering that tuxedos’ pockets are sewn shut).

“Okay…” Yuurika decided to leave her new husband’s suspicious behaviour aside for the moment. “Chitoko, say hi to your new relative!”

“Hello, Biktoru oji-san!” The boy pronounced clearly.

“Hey, I told you just a second ago, call him Onii-san. He’s sensitive about his age,” Yuurika spoke quickly in Japanese.

“But Yuuri-neechan, he’s got grey hair! He must be really old! And I don’t care if I hurt his feelings; I wanted to marry you when I got bigger!” The child blurted in the same language, eyes tearing slightly.

Yuurika set him down smoothly and kissed his upturned nose. “You’re precious. And a bit too precocious. Sorry, but I’m taken.” She ruffled his hair gently, and waved as he toddled off back to his immediate family.

“Does this mean I win?” Viktor asked, the past minute catching up with him.

“Did you… yes, yes dear. You won. Against a three-year-old. I hope you’re happy.”

“I overcame Chihoko?”

“Chito- Sure, yes.”

“You think I’m better than Chihoko, right?”

“Yes, I think you’re better for me than Chitoko.”

Viktor mentally filed a note to clear off the motivational resolution he’d stuck on all his mirrors, now that his goal was fulfilled.

Yuurika cupped his face in her hands and stared deep into his eyes. “There’s no one I love more than you, Viktor.”

Overcome by the simple statement, Viktor leaned down and kissed her.

All earlier thoughts were driven clean out of his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Jane Austen. I got what Twitter usernames I could from the screenshots of the ending credits posted in the Crunchyroll forum. The name “Chisamaru” is supposed to be an alternate reading / corruption of “Chisai - maru,” or very loosely, “small boy.” I don’t think that’s how it would really work, and extremely doubt anyone would choose that meaning of a name for their kid, but it fit well enough for this crack story.  
> Please visit me at [vanillaisnotplain on Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vanillaisnotplain) to squeal over the adorableness that is the Yuri on Ice the Musical, and other YoI things!


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